


L'Etoille

by Angryangryowl



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chef AU, Chef Kylo, Cooking, Fluff, Food, Hux is in charge, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, chef hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:34:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7042681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angryangryowl/pseuds/Angryangryowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux has run his father's French restaurant on Theroux Avenue for years. He is saddled with a new apprentice, Kylo Ren, to revive the restaurant's flagging numbers. He is initially distrustful, but Kylo really is as talented and frustrating as the owner, Snoke, said he would be. But of course, that means he won't stick around long..right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoy this story. I enjoyed writing it <3

  
  
The beautiful fan art that [choujiinator](http://choujiinator.tumblr.com/) did for my fic!   
  
*****  
  
'You honestly watch that garbage? Everyday eats?’

‘Guilty pleasure, I mean, I was at home and it was on TV and I didn’t wanna get up so..’ Mitaka shuffled nervously, looking away from Hux.

‘The sheer scope of your laziness never ceases to amaze me. But the new guy won’t be here long if he’s already that popular. Kylo Ren, apparently. The next big thing, here to force his ideas on us and disappear at the first whiff of a book deal.’

Hux straightened his glasses on his nose. This was the problem with every passionate young upstart like Kylo Ren that he’d been sent. For one thing, they had no respect at all for him, French cuisine, or the time it took to build a career like his. For another, they would very often vanish for a job at a more fashionable restaurant, or their food blog, or a coveted book deal.

In this case, said young upstart had been noticed by the esteemed owner of L’Etoile, Snoke during a spot on ‘Everyday eats’ – a dinnertime cooking show fronted by a supposedly charming, curly-haired idiot named Poe Dameron. He was, Hux was told, something of a heartthrob. His easy patter and incessant flirting whilst cooking and with his frequent guests, a mixture of chefs, celebrities and celebrity chefs, was supposed to ‘invite you into his kitchen’. If anyone believed the artificially sunlit, stripped pine set, with it’s row of glowing copper pans, a windowsill full of plants, and ingredients all mysteriously ready chopped in glass dishes was Poe’s home, they’d believe anything.

‘Anyway, whatever I might think, he’s starting with us this morning. He’ll be the new sous, after the unfortunate exit of the last one.’ With a slight roll of his eyes, he glanced down at his notebook, nodding to the gathering crowd of kitchen staff, some still yawning and clutching paper cups of coffee. Mitaka had previously defined ‘too early’ as before the espresso machine had been switched on.

His lips pursed at the changes in staff. Adapting to change was a large part of his job, whether he liked it or not. Snoke seemed to think his unwillingness to adapt was what was causing the restaurants steady decline. Three tables booked certainly did not class as a Friday night rush. His crowd of loyal patrons, who returned for their favourite French dishes executed with skill and precision, without a deconstructed dish or salted caramel foam in sight, only brought in limited revenue.

Keeping potential buyers away was another matter. The previously unfashionable Theroux Row was now busy with artisan bakeries (all rough sourdough and no beautiful patisserie, Hux noted with distaste) and a combination of painfully hip independent coffee shops, and international coffee chains trying to pretend that they were the former. Snoke would not keep the restaurant as Hux’s vanity project if a generous enough offer was made.

‘Anyway, today Mitaka will remain on pastry, your nougat was excellent yesterday.’ Mitaka made an effort to keep his face impassive at praise from the head chef, but a smile still tugged at one corner of his mouth. Hux continued with his notepad, not noticing. ‘Maddox, Mason, Hernandez, grill, fish and saute, please. If Mister Castell joins us tonight, we will give him the best meal he has had in years, don’t let me down.’ He eyed a bored-looking Mason over his glasses. Hernandez, trying to suppress his natural beaming smile, elbowed him in the ribs as soon as Hux returned to his notepad.

He stopped for a second to glance up at an unfamiliar face that had appeared in the back row behind Mitaka, difficult to miss as it stood a few inches above everyone else. A mop of unruly black hair tamed into a ponytail, a disproportionately large nose and pale skin peppered with dark moles. That was all Hux allowed himself to notice before his eyes snapped back to his notepad. ‘Ah. This is Ren, our new sous who will be assisting me with the new menu. Make him welcome. Continue with prep, Adkins, you’re on staff breakfast, be ready for ten sharp this time.’

‘Ren, if you’d like to join me, we can discuss the new menu.’ He didn’t go as far as actually smiling. He was fully prepared to dislike this man, and every change that he brought. But between the lumbering stranger and the end of his career, he’d take his chances with the former. Mitaka brought two cups of steaming coffee as soon as they’d sat down in the bar. Hux nodded his thanks, sending him back to the kitchen gleeful with another small smile.

The dining room of L’Etoile occupied two stories at the front of the building, high, wood-framed windows filling the room with dusty, golden sunlight and flecks of green where the sun met the twisting fingers of ivy from the roof. The petrol blue of the walls was perhaps one of the less traditional things in the restaurant, but Hux thinks it picks out the blue of the Siene in his favourite painting.

‘So, you trained under Armistead?’ He began, wanting to break the curious way Ren was looking at him. It was too early in the morning to have something on his pristine whites. Did he have something on his face? Ren broke this train of thought. ‘Yeah. Um..nice guy. We had our differences, I guess. But I learned the important stuff.’

‘Technique?’

‘Passion, maybe it’s a bit clichéd. But if you love the food, you know the flavours and how they work together. Armistead used to describe it as a good marriage. The solid base of good produce, nurtured with good technique, and finished with absolutely mind-blowing…presentation.’ He smirked at his own joke, quirking an eyebrow as he glanced up at Hux. ‘That and staying out of jail.’

‘Armistead must have thought a lot of you, to encourage you onto Everyday Eats.’ A leading question, leading far away from the question Ben was daring him to ask. It was sort of satisfying to deny him.

‘I was good at my job, I worked damn hard for that place.’ Ren bit back, his shoulders squaring a little.

Hux smiled silkily back. ‘I’m sure you did. Snoke seems to think you’re exactly what this place needs, you’re our knight in starched white armour.’

Ren glared. Hux leaned back in his hair a little, pushing his glasses further onto his nose and considering him for a moment. His eyes were a glossy chocolate brown, honeyed flecks towards the iris, in the light, with thick, dark brows and lashes, striking next to his papery skin and black chef’s jacket. His full lips were currently set in a hard line, determined. He imagined he had someone slim, stylish and just as fond of black waiting at home. He was not classically handsome, as the last ‘promising young hopeful’ that Snoke had sent. But there was something interesting about his face, something pleasing about the whole arrangement that stopped Hux from quite looking away.

The knowledge that Hux has little choice but to listen to Ren if he wants L’Etoile to remain open grates at him. If he had any other choice, he’d turn down every opinion he presented out of spite and watch him leave in a fit of temper. But his face remains diplomatically blank, a practiced polite smile fixed in place.

‘Well, maybe you are as good as Snoke and Armistead say you are. Armistead’s an excellent chef, maybe less traditional than me. I brought our dinner menu, perhaps you have some ideas?’

A little bit of him dies putting years of sweat and hard work in front of this arrogant young man for approval, but Hux does it with a smile on his face, and hopes he sounds genuine. Ren takes the crisp sheet from Hux, his face softening a little at the compliment, reading through the elegantly presented options. After a few moments he replaced it on the table, sighing. Hux felt himself bristling before Ren even opened his mouth.

‘You can’t sell foie gras anymore.’

‘It’s a French classic. People expect it in a French restaurant.’ Hux said cooly.

‘But you aren’t selling it. People are all about the ethical side of it, animal cruelty and whatever, and it’s too expensive. You must be wasting what, a hundred dollars of stock a week?’

‘Fifty. But our regulars-‘

‘Aren’t even paying your rent right now. Snoke’s gonna sell up and there will be no regulars. Whatever you think of ‘em, these guys walking past-‘ he gestured widely to the street outside, packed with people in ripped jeans and bright scarves, eating, drinking coffee from paper cups and talking on their phones ‘you need them in here. You’ve got an amazing pastry chef, I’ve read his blog for months. He is producing some beautiful stuff and you have no window display or publicity for that. This place is empty and it’s 8am. Throw those doors open, have some fresh baked croissants and coffee, pain perdu, juice, you could be raking it in.’

‘I asked for menu ideas, rather than business advice. This is a classic French restaurant, it has been for forty years, our regulars know what to expect and-‘

‘And what’s more French than café au lait and a pastry at a sidewalk table?’

‘We don’t open until eleven-thirty, we wouldn’t have time for prep. And we’d be like every other ‘quirky’ joint on this street. You’ll be wanting me to fill it with broken vintage radios and hand-crochet the place settings.’ Hux countered smartly, pleased with himself.

‘You don’t have to do any of that, but you do have to get your head out your ass and realise that you are haemorrhaging money. I looked at your figures, and even in your beautiful handwriting it doesn’t look good at all. I’m not saying you have to do Thai fusion. But the menu hasn’t changed in how long?’

‘That’s not important, people come here for consistency.’

‘With the average age of your clientele I’m surprised they can still fucking chew their steak au poivre!’

‘Just…’ Ren actually seemed to be trying to calm himself, closing his eyes for a second, his nostrils flaring with a deep breath. ‘Tell me you’ll consider it. I wrote some suggestions, hearty homestyle stuff that would work at lunchtime, bouillabaisse, tartiflette, blanquette de veau, soup –‘

It’s almost like he’s pleading now. He has gone far past the point of playing it cool and pretending not to care. Hux has only just realised they are both standing, and Ren has his own handwritten menu in his hand, pushing it towards Hux. He could just ball it up and throw it to the floor, go back to vegetable prep and tell Snoke Ren’s an idiot. But he knows that he doesn’t have a choice if he wants this place to keep going, and that grates and rubs at him like a fishbone in his throat, a fruit pip in his teeth, just the thought of it makes his fists clench in irritation.

‘Fine. I’ll look it over and maybe we can introduce a few ideas if they’re economically viable. See if they sell. But if not I’ll have to take them off the menu.’ He stares at the list as though he is very doubtful any of it will sell. ‘We will speak to Snoke and Mitaka about opening times. Mason and Hernandez can show you your station, I have some calls to make. Please don’t disturb me.’  
His office is a small room just off the kitchen, he glimpses a faded green couch wedged in the small room before Hux slams the door behind him.

Shaking his head, Ren puts on his apron and pulls out a roll of knives, settling next to Hernandez and a large pile of lumpy celeriac. He’s shorter, but only because he’s an average height amongst giants. He’s got a nice face, warm, like as long as you were talking to him, you were his friend, no questions asked. ‘Don’t you have a kitchen porter for this?’

‘Yeah, Snoke fired him. Times are tough, gotta peel our own stuff.’ He grinned. ‘If you wanna help, won’t take too long. Few of these assholes spend too much time on smoke break.’ He loudly emphasises the last two words, and is met with a round of expletives from the back door. ‘They’re a good group of guys though. Even Hux. He seems kinda uptight but he holds it all together. And if you want anything, just ask. It’s been rough on him seeing this place go downhill, he sleeps on that damn couch too often rather than go home, like it’ll crumble when he’s not here. And he has that fucking palace up on the hill! His dad made his money after he was head chef at this place, got a few book deals, there was money in the family anyway but..anyhow, seems like a crying shame to me. Could fit 15 families in that place and since his dad died, nobody is there most of the time.’

‘Huh. He seems like the rich kid type.’ Ren snorted, tossing a peeled bulb into the stockpot between them where it hits the cold water with a plop.

‘Nah, he’s not spoilt. It’s actually weird how hard he works, he could just sell that place and live comfortably off the money. But I don’t think he knows how to do anything except work. He never talks about anything else, tv, friends, significant other…he’s just a chef.’ Hernandez shrugs, dropping two more bulbs into the water.

Ren nods, thinking. The rest of the morning passes fairly quietly, the lunch rush is more a slow trickle. An elderly couple whom Hux greets personally settle themselves for a long lunch. Hux passes the order to Ren, as he turns back to the grill Hux halts him with a hand on his arm. ‘Let’s see what you can do. Medium rare, heavy on the brandy in the sauce. Use the best cut you’ve got - they spend a lot and tip well.’ He stands aside, but keeps watching, his arms folded and his face impassive.

Ren seems to sink into the task, he’s fast enough but he never seems to be rushing. Hux is tempted to tell him to hurry up, but there’s no need. He seasons with idle flicks of his big hands, it looks careless but it’s enough. He lifts two fat steaks into a pan, a little oil and butter foaming around them. Another casual flick of fat green peppercorns into another pan, another slick of soft butter, brandy, lighter, a touch of a smile at the whoosh of blue flame. He’s hypnotic to watch, a swirl of heavy cream, a slip of pink tongue to taste from a teaspoon, and that smile returns.

Mason is on hand with crisp pomme frites, still hissing from the fryer as Ren slices each steak into thick wedges, a slip of tender red at the heart of each. Sauce is spooned over, slopping richly over crisp edges and butter-soft meat, ‘Service please!’ and they're gone. Ren glances to Hux, flicking his cloth over his shoulder in an accomplished manner, and secretly hoping Hux'll be dumbfounded. The knowing smile Hux directs at Ren before turning back to his office isn't anywhere near as condescending as Ren thought it might be. He actually looks sort of handsome when he does, it takes the edge off of those sharp features. Mitaka drops a stack of tartlet tins before Ren can say anything smart, blushing and trying to pretend he wasn't staring at the pair of them.

***

Castell enters about six. The restaurant is hardly heaving, two older couples and a pair of students engaged in a painfully awkward first date. He’s a squat little man, black hair in a slicked-down combover, horn-rimmed glasses, a charcoal tweed blazer and chinos. The barest hint of panic flashes across Hux’s face when Mitaka murmurs, stood beside Ren.  
‘Command mode. He does this sometimes. They all complain but really he’s a marvel to watch.’ He swallows deeply before continuing ‘Sometimes people need a firm hand.’

Ren grins, nudging Mitaka with his elbow ‘Maybe you should buy him a drink first?’ Mitaka even giggles a little in response.

‘Stations please!’ Hux’s voice is clear, calm, and commanding. This is clearly what Mitaka meant. ‘Escargot for appetizer – you know how he likes them Mason, extra garlic, the bavette a l’echalotte for main, a perfect rare, Ren, pull this off and I’ll marry you, sauté potatoes, asparagus, side of ratatouille. I’ll handle the ratatouille and asparagus. Give him the night of his life, guys.’

Ren feels a smile creep across his face as he heads to the grill and a fridge full of rump or sirloin. No bavette. Shit. ‘Hux, we’ve got a problem! No bavette in the house. Fillet might cut it? Ask him if he wants to change to the fish?’

‘No, no damn fish. He’s given us four stars every time for our steak. Last time he had the coq au vin, total disaster. Fillet then, bloody rare, shallots caramelised but not overdone. You’ve got this.’ Hux most sincerely hopes he has. Another bad review will likely finish them. Ren holds his career in those big, clever hands.


	2. Chapter 2

The next week is a blur of colour and sound to Ren. He and Hux argue over the menu endlessly. Neither is particularly good at compromising, but it turns out that Hux, when forced into a corner, is exceptionally good at suggesting new flavour combinations, lunch dishes, and asking Mitaka for a sample of his most beautiful work for a new window display. Mitaka stays up all night but produces an array of pastries, cakes, bread, sweets. Tarte aux fraises with a glistening layer of syrup-soaked strawberries, crisp pastry with just a tinge of burnished gold around the top. A pastel rainbow of macaroons, infused with lemon, earl grey, pistachio, coconut, their shells uniformly domed and delicate. Brioche, madelines, and an opera cake, his magnum opus of chocolate and precise layers of which he was justly proud.

Ren helps him photograph them all, brandishing a handful of polaroids to Hux in what has become their regular morning meeting over coffee. He makes pain perdu with fresh blueberries to help his case. Hux raises an eyebrow but takes a bite anyway.

‘It’s excellent. Although you could be a little less obvious when you are trying to bribe me.’

‘My mom always said the way to any man’s heart was through his stomach.’

‘Very smooth, Ren.’ But he laughs anyway. His smile creases his whole face, a toothy grin that makes him look several years younger.

‘So we can open for breakfast on Saturday?’

‘Well, it really needs more planning, I’d have to tell Snoke and-’

‘Better to ask forgiveness than permission.’ he says through half a mouthful of squidgy brioche.

‘Your mom says that too?’

‘Yep. Please do it? For me? I’ll be your best buddy!’ Ren clasps Hux’s cool fingers dramatically, his hand dwarfed by Ren’s.

‘I make a point of never having friends that are taller than me. You’d be a terrible choice.’

‘Go on. I’ll buy you a drink. Two drinks. That 20 year old scotch you like.’

‘Frankly I’d do it if you stopped touching me.’ He’s fighting a smile. ‘But alright.’

They take on an apprentice who looks like he may drop dead of fright every time Hux speaks to him. It begins with a day of Hux observing him, mostly pursing his lips and opening his mouth and closing it again when he messes up a simple sauce or burns butter.

The next day, Hux teaches him the basics. Patience would not be at the top if Ren were to make a list of Hux’s personality traits. But he has it in surprising amounts with Watts, the name he stutters when Hux prompts him. They make a béchamel together, three or four times. Hux never even raises his voice, but quietly explains the process of heating the butter to foaming, not burning, cooking the flour out just for a couple of moments. The temperature of the milk. Seasoning well and continually tasting.

Ren watches fascinated. He is steadily realising that he could listen to Hux talk all day, whatever the subject, however much he knows this stuff. Because when he does speak, it’s always interesting and thoughtfully spoken. It always matters. His profile through the steam, glasses balanced on the rounded tip of his nose, feels like glancing something he shouldn’t be looking at. Hux’s delicate fingers around Watts’ wrist, demonstrating just the right movement with a whisk wakes a stinging twinge of jealousy in Ren.

Until Hernandez makes a very lewd comment about the technique really being all in the wrist movement.

Hux only replies with ‘You would know.’

***

Ren is in early the next day, leaving his shoebox studio apartment in the dark, promising himself coffee strong enough to wake the dead when he gets to work. The first hazy glow of sunrise is just starting to light the tiled wall as Ren opens the kitchen door. Mitaka is here first, HUx really has found his fellow workaholic in him, he muses to himself. He hasn’t heard Ren come in, his chef’s jacket is slung over the end of the bench and he’s up to his elbows in flour, kneading a hefty lump of bread dough and singing along to the radio. The morning sunlight catches the billowing flour dust as he thumps the dough back down on the counter. Knocking back, Ren vaguely remembers. Taking the air out of the dough before the second rise

He provides his own backing vocals and occasional percussion on the edge of the bench, shaking his hips as he turns round for a clean bowl.

He stops cold when he sees Ren in the corner, smiling ‘Oh, sorry, didn’t hear you come in. We don’t have to listen to this noise if you don’t-’

‘It’s good. I’m just impressed you’re this awake at this time, sorta assumed everyone would be a zombie.’ He dumps his bag and jacket, yawning widely

‘Most of them are. But I’ve always worked on pastry and bread, being something of a morning person helps. I’m kinda better in my own company, it’s good to have a couple of hours before everyone else gets in. Hux will be in soon, he goes to the market most mornings.’

Mitaka shrugs, slapping the dough back down onto the board. ‘You’re in kinda early..’

‘Hux agreed to a couple of new things of the specials board. Thought I’d try and look keen.’ He gestures to the waiting paper sacks of vegetables with a grin.

‘He already likes you. Thinks you’re good for this place. He’s not gonna tell you, because he thinks you’re arrogant enough already.’

‘Really?’ Ren knows he’s good. Words like ‘mould-breaking’ and ‘trailblazer’ had been used in his TV spot. But such even backhanded compliments from the quiet, serious redhead - who did not believe in cheap praise or easy breaks. That was really something.

‘Really. About the arrogance and him liking you.’ Mitaka grins.

‘I’m mortally wounded. How could he?’ Ren cries, dramatically clutching his chest.

‘Can’t think where he gets the idea that you’ve got a bit of an ego from..’

‘Et tu, Mitaka? Stabbed in the back just when I thought we could be friends.’

‘And Hernandez thinks your ponytail is stupid.’ Mitaka remarks without looking up, trying to supress the smirk spreading across his face.

‘He does not!’

‘Oh yeah, said it makes your nose look bigger and does nothing to hide your goofy ears..’ He stops himself, glancing up at Ren like he’s worried he’s gone too far.

Ren is stumbling back, moaning theatrically and clutching at his heart like he’s been shot. ‘Betrayed! Betrayed by my brothers…’

‘Who you have known for six days.’ Mitaka corrects, shaping the dough into neat rolls and apparently indifferent to Ren’s fate whilst trying not to laugh.

‘Betrayed by my brothers I have known for six days..’ he moans, staggering backwards, tripping and grabbing to door frame to catch himself, just in time to knock Hux backwards as he walks through the open door with an armful of the morning papers and receipts. Somewhere in the middle of an ill-thought sideways dive towards Hux and a blizzard of loose paper flying up between them, Ren wonders if this is a good idea.

Hux grabs at Ren to break his fall, getting a handful of his jacket front as Ren’s arm slips around him, dipping him and just managing not to drop him onto the tile. Glasses askew on his nose, lips parted, perfect hair knocked just slightly awry, Hux gazes up at his saviour for a second before saying softly, his breath hitching in his throat.

‘Ren, I sincerely hope, for your sake, that you weren't messing about on my time.’

Ren grins, helping him to his feet. ‘No sir. Sorry sir.’

Hux side-eyes him, a warning, but today has far too much in store for the sharp dressing down he’d like to give Ren. Gathering the paperwork, Mitaka lays it on the side, distracted by the morning paper. Ren glances over his shoulder and spots it, the small but capitalised headline next to the masthead. ‘Theroux Avenue’s French Farce? Read more in Food, pg 28’

Hux is thankfully distracted looking through the porthole in the kitchen door. Going in for a closer look before yanking off his apron, suddenly angrier than Ren has ever seen him

‘No! Not this time, not today!’ He storms outside, Ren closer behind.

A food truck with the letters ‘Grillenium Falcon’ picked out in bright yellow letters, with an apparently toasted spaceship trailing melted cheese in it’s wake on the side was obscuring the whole front of the restaurant. Hux is hammering on the door before Ren gets outside. A young man with close cropped hair, a black t-shirt and an apron answers.

‘You know, I thought I made it pretty damn clear last time Finn. This is illegal parking, you’re stealing my trade, obstructing the road, not to mention dragging down the whole damn street with that tacky truck!’

Finn steps down from the truck, wiping his hands on his apron before holding them up like he’s trying to calm Hux down. He speaks softly. Ren has a funny feeling about how Hux will react to that.

‘Listen, Hux, I know you’re sore about what happened, and I’m sorry about your restaurant, really i read that review and I-’

He doesn’t get any further before Hux has grabbed him by the collar, a tight grip on the fabric. He’s a few inches taller, even if Finn is broader, and he looms over him. ‘Now you can just listen here, sunshine!’ he snarls.

Ren has grabbed Hux from behind before he can continue, he’s pretty sure when Hux calms down he won’t want being arrested added to his problems. Hux struggles desperately, but Ren is far stronger and has both of his arms. There is a tiny, guilty part of him that is enjoying having Hux so close, even if he is trying to kick Ren in the shins to let him go.

‘This is my restaurant, this is my pavement, if you park here again I will burn that wreck to the ground and make it look like an accident, you hear?’

A small crowd has gathered by now, Hux stops struggling as he sees them, pushing his glasses onto his nose. ‘You never would have made it in my kitchen, fucking amateurs. No style, no taste, making fucking grilled cheese for hungover college kids and calling it ‘art’. Wouldn’t know good confit duck if I rammed it down your damn throat. Get the fuck off of my property, you traitorous bastard.’ he spits, shrugging off Ren and going back inside.

 

***

Hux is still shaking with anger when he gets inside. Can’t quite believe the audacity of someone he’d trained, another scared little kid he’s given a chance to who had outgrown him. Talented, sure. He prided himself on spotting potential. But always too quick to leave. His restaurant is already sinking fast. He just wishes that people would let him drown in peace.

And christ, that review. It sits on the end of Mitaka’s bench, he’s trying to pretend it isn’t there. The look of pained sympathy Mitaka gives Hux makes him want to punch him square in that perfect nose. He just glares, snatching up the newspaper and stalking to his office, closing the door behind him.

Fucking Castell. His smug and oily tones echoed from the page.

‘As the son of the once-great Brendol Hux, A. Hux had big shoes to fill. He has led L’Etoile from strength to strength in excellent traditional french cuisine, winning the Slater prize for two consecutive years. However the meal and service I had last night were only adequate. I came hungry and left full, but unsatisfied. The decor and menu is as dull and uninspired as it was before Hux Jr. graced this planet. Deserts are technically precise but far from the most exciting meal in town. Roumors of imminent sale or closure continue to haunt this once great establishment. One wonders if the restaurant’s new acquisition, Everyday Eats guest and former head chef at Armistead’s Kylo Ren may be able to restore some light to this dying star, and teach former prodigy Hux the difference between bavette and fillet. ⅕’

 

Mentioning his father. How very original. He’d known for a long time that he was never quite going to escape the enormous metaphorical shadow cast by his dad’s legacy. He’d mostly grown up in this place. He remembers sitting on his mother’s knee in this office, distracting her by shouting out stray numbers whilst she tried to write the accounts. His father teaching him to bone chicken, fillet fish, prepare vegetables at not much older than ten. Doing his homework and falling asleep on the worn sofa behind him rather than go back to the empty, echoing house alone. There are still ink stains on the arm from tapping his pen there, pondering a math question.

He felt like thrusting this under Snoke’s nose, questioning why exactly this was all his fault. But he knew how futile that would be. It seemed that however he raged, or didn’t, however hard he struggled to save his career and this place, it was always met with the same results. Whatever he sacrificed, and he’s sacrificed it all without question. Any other career, any attempt to meet a partner or move anywhere else, his whole life. The lump in his throat is too big to swallow, and one fat tear rolls down his left cheek. He crumples over his desk, collapsing in the middle like a paper cup in an impatient hand, sobbing quietly into his hands. He’s crying because he’s tired of finding reasons not to, the pro suddenly seems much heavier than the con.

The door clicks. ‘Five minutes, please.’ he calls, trying to keep his voice even. It cracks rather pathetically on the ‘please.’ Footsteps shuffle forward, clicking the door shut behind them. He looks up, clenching his jaw and preparing to send whoever it on on their way. Ren smiles a little down at him.

‘What is it?’

‘I came to see if you were alright. Mitaka thought it wasn’t a good idea but…’

‘You’re just really fucking nosy?’ he spits.

‘I just really wanted to know if you were alright.’

‘Not missing any limbs, no major blood loss. I’ll live.’

‘You’re crying.’

‘Well done, excellent work Sherlock.’ Hux snaps, but he’s trying to keep his hands from shaking. He stands up, wiping his face. He knows he’s babbling but he can’t bear Ren’s sympathy. He has no use for pity. ‘I’ll be fine, need to get prep for dinner service going, please don’t tell me they’re standing around like grandmothers at a birthday party out there.’

He’s pulled into a hug mid-rant. He tenses at first, but doesn’t quite push Ren away. Ren is warm, patient, and smells like sweat and soap. Hux feels his wrung-out body sinking against him, Ren’s broad arms wrapped around his shoulders. The next sob shudders through him and he dissolves into tears again against Ren’s shoulder. Silently cursing him for forcing him to embarrass himself like this as his hands clench, grabbing handfuls of his jacket. Ren doesn’t shush or reassure him, or offer any comfort beyond the steady pressure of his arms and a thumb rubbing small circle on his back.

It seems a lot longer than ten minutes that they stay like this. But Hux straightens himself and wipes his face, slips his glasses back on. He still looks like a disaster, but somehow, it seems unlikely anyone will question him on this.. Ren squeezes his shoulder ‘We’re gonna get through this service, and then I’m gonna buy you that drink. Okay?’

Hux nods, steeling himself.

Any rampaging hordes they might have expected had obviously been driven away by that review. They served two tables, two courses each. Almost their quietest night in twenty years. Hux tells them to close up at 8. Nobody is coming in, although the Grillenium Falcon truck across the street seems to be doing a roaring trade. He glimpses Finn, and another young man he recognises but can’t quite place, dark curls and a bright orange t-shirt. Passing out sandwiches in greasy paper bags hand over fist. He watches them gloomily through the front windows as the kitchen is cleaned down.

Their head (and only) waitress, a tall and elegant woman, with coiffed platinum hair and a killer smile, tots up the night's receipts and shares out the tips. She slips her own share straight to Ren whilst Hux is in the kitchen. ‘Buy him another drink, don’t tell him it’s from me. And look after him, will you?’

He starts to protest, but she shoots him a knowing look, pressing her hand over his to close his fingers around the coins. ‘I’ve never seen him look so beaten. He can look after himself, but he could use a friend.’

‘’Never knew you cared, Phasma.’

She throws a wet bar rag at him. She is taller than Ren in heels and looks like she could rip a phone book in half without trying too hard. Ren finds it endearing that she bothers to mention Hux at all.

 

The rest of the staff trail off shortly afterwards, a couple are glad to go home and sleep, most are led by Hernandez, who swears he knows a place with mojitos that'll make you see Jesus and a live band. Hux finishes off the day’s paperwork, sitting at one of the restaurant tables. The big group tumble in from the kitchen, most changed into jeans and t-shirts already, asking if Hux and Ren will join them.

‘Not tonight. I need to finish this and then I am going home to drink myself into oblivion. Thank you though.’ Hux replies, motioning to his paperwork. He is left with sympathetic looks, Mitaka gently squeezes his shoulder, Hernandez manages a fist bump before Hux decides that is more than enough affection and tells him to piss off. Ren makes his own excuses, he’s tired and really hoping to finish this season of Game of Thrones. That is at least mostly true. More goodbyes, an enthusiastic high-five from Hernandez, and they go off into the night.

They continue scribbling for half an hour or so, before Hux puts his pen down. Staring aimlessly outside. The street is rain-washed, the long strings of lights hung between the high red-brick shop fronts reflecting off of the shimmering paving stones.

Ren joins him, shifting Hux’s mass of paperwork to the next table and setting two heavy-bottomed tumblers on the marble top, uncorking the twenty-year old scotch that has sat in pride of place behind the bar for years, by the dust on the bottle. A generous glassful each before Hux can protest.

‘I’m buying you that drink.’

‘I really hoped I’d have a happier occasion to open that’ he says grimly, taking the first sip.’It’s perfect, too.’

Ren shrugs, settling on a chair opposite Hux, who is sat on the banquette against the wall. The petrol blue of the walls brings out the warm tones of Hux’s skin, his fiery hair. Ren is fairly sure Hux doesn’t want to know this. ‘It’s a beautiful night. You’re not crying on your own. It could be one hell of a lot worse.’

Hux considers this for a moment, swilling the next sip over his tongue. Caramel-rich, a touch of smoke. Worth waiting for.

‘Perhaps it could.’ He glances up at Ren, still thoughtful. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, actually.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘What’s Poe Dameron like? Is he as insufferably nice as he looks on TV?’

‘Nicer, I think. He makes it kinda difficult to hate him actually. My parents know his, we were friends when we were kids. It helped me get the Everyday Eats job I guess. He said I could do more guest work, really launch my career.’

Hux only hummed, draining his glass. He’d heard all this before. Soon enough Ren would be looking for an excuse to leave.

‘Did he know about your...history?’

‘About me being in jail?’

‘Yes.’

‘He knew. My mom probably told him. Bitching about my terrible life choices together.’ Ren grinned, filling both of their glasses a little fuller than last time.

Hux glances at him over his glasses. It’s like being in the principal’s office again. ‘Can I ask what those were?’

‘There were a lot of people that I knew when I was a kid that I stopped agreeing with. I had...a few anger issues and they pissed me off. One guy in particular, had been picking on me for years. I was kind of a goofy-looking kid, and kinda small. I didn’t really start growing until I was 13. Anyway, this little asshole waited for me after school. Broke my eye socket, my wrist, my nose eventually. But his dad’s a cop, nothing happened.’ He paused to take another sip. Hux listened patiently, resting his chin on his hand. He’s dropped the judgemental look.

‘My mom and dad worked a lot, my dad told me to suck it up and my mom ignored it. I was so angry. So I dropped a can of gas too close to his car. And a few lit matches. Oops. It blew out all the windows in his house when the gas tank went up. Got ten years, but let out after 6 for good conduct, sent to do community work at that soup kitchen downtown. That’s how I met Armistead.’

Hux nods. He’s finished his second glass and looks pleasantly exhausted.

‘You got any skeletons in the family closet then?’ Ren says, grinning.

‘Afraid not. My dad died a few years ago, left me this place and the family house. I’ve worked here, stayed in that office, since I was very young. Slept in there when they were both working late. My dad taught me to cook here and made it pretty clear that was expected of me, and I couldn’t wait to take over this place. I was head chef when I was 25, Snoke was a bit nervous, but he trusted my dad. That’s all, really. I was born for this job.’

‘Wow. No kidding. Nobody waiting back at home then?’ Ren firmly told any hope lingering in his stomach to pipe down.

‘Nope, just me. Never found the right person I guess. Too busy here, didn’t really think about it.’ Hux tries to brush it off, but he can’t quite meet Ren’s eyes. ‘And you? I sorta guessed you’d have someone.’

‘Nope, living the bachelor life, whatever that is. I really fell for this guy before everything happened, but it all got kinda complicated.’

Hux nods again, tipsily. ‘You looking?’

Ren cannot resist when a line like this is thrown his way ‘And if I was?’

‘I don’t know. Online dating?’ Hux giggles a little at his own joke. The corners of his eyes crinkle a little when he smiles. It brings out the more prominent freckles scattered across his cheekbones.

‘People find me kinda weird. And I like to meet them in person. They don’t expect too much that way.’

 

Hux is still smiling when Ren stands up and settles on the banquette next to him.

‘I don’t really know how much you’re expecting here.’ Ren says softly.

‘Not much..’ Hux murmurs, his eyes falling closed as Ren leans in, his arm sliding around his shoulders as he pulls him into a gentle kiss. Hux’s lips are soft. He smells faintly of whisky and burnt sugar. His hand settles on Ren’s thigh as he kisses him back, a little hesitant at first, but his whole body sinking against him, planting a series of gentle pecks that all merge into one. Ren slips his glasses off when they break apart, his long fingers tracing over his chin and cupping his jaw before he returns to kiss him again. It’s still soft, a little hesitant. But it feels important somehow. Ren thinks he might never tire of the feeling of Hux’s body going boneless and pliant against him.

The kisses linger. Hux’s cool fingers slide over his forearm, it feels electric. He smooths Hux’s hair away from his face, thumb tracing the outline of his ear and the muscle of his neck. His pulse is racing beneath Ren’s fingertips.

‘Is this okay?’

Hux half-wakes from a trance ‘Sorry?’

Ren can feel himself blushing. ‘Is this okay?’

‘Mmm. Yes. Very much so.’ he murmurs, his arm looping around Ren’s neck and pulling him back for more. Ren trails a few more kisses onto his lips and then over his chin and jaw. Fingertips and nails trailing through his thick red hair as he sucks softly on the pale skin just below Hux’s ear. He moans in both pleasure and surprise, fingers clenching in the front of Ren’s jacket.

Woops and wolf-whistling outside the window halt everything. Ren glares at the small group watching them through the glass and cheering, they scatter when he stands up. Hux stands up with him ‘Maybe we could take this through to my office?’. There’s a sly smile on his lips, his hand is resting on Ren’s hip, and even though it’s as cliched as hell and he’s blushing it’s somewhere very close to flirting.

He flicks off the lights in the dining room as Hux leads him by the wrist into the kitchen, scrubbed down and deserted, smelling of disinfectant. Ren has him against the wall before they make it inside the office, knocking the breath from his lungs with a surprised ‘’Ah!’. He kisses him, deep and hard, sucking roughly on his lower lip, his arm sliding around Hux’s slim waist, pulling him close and pressing their bellies together. He feels a lot smaller than Ren thought he would, and he thinks perhaps he’s gone too far, assumed too much. But Hux moans breathily against his mouth, his own hand sliding from the small of Ren’s back to grasp his backside. Oh.

Hux fumbles with the catch to the office door with one hand, Ren is taking great delight in distracting him, greedy full-mouthed kisses on that elegant and pale neck, unbuttoning his collar enough to swipe his tongue over the crease between neck and shoulder.

‘Patience, Ren. Just one moment, I - ah!’ He finally pulls the door open, pulling Ren inside with him and letting it click closed. Really, he always thought Hux would be the one to back out. But suddenly they’re both just standing there, flushed and breathing hard. Staring at each other and wondering what to do now.

‘You’re uh...sure about this?’ Hux looks down at Ren’s feet, rubbing the fingers of one hand nervously over his forearm.

‘Yeah. I mean, it’s not what I thought was gonna happen, but I didn’t think you’d..’ He sighs in frustration, none of it making sense. ‘Listen, I really like you. I didn’t know what to expect, I don’t know what you want with me but..I do like you. I do want you. If you’ll have me.’

He glances up at Hux, waiting for him to dramatically reveal how Ren’s blown it. But he’s looking patiently back. His eyes are a soft green, small flares of gold and hazel around the pupil. Hooded with want and alcohol. Beautiful.

‘I like you too.’ he says quietly. ‘I still don’t know what to expect. Or what I want, besides you. Everything else is so complicated. It has been a while, though.’ A smile plays at one corner of his mouth.

‘Yeah, you and me both..’ Ren can feel his cheeks warming as Hux pulls him close again. Ren is nuzzling at his jaw as he unbuttons his jacket, pushing it down to his wrists. A plain grey t-shirt underneath (He looks good in grey), his wide palms pushing the hem up to rest on the bare skin above Hux’s hips, thumbs tracing over his stomach. He shivers at that, impatiently removing Ren’s chef’s jacket and the black t-shirt beneath it. He stares for a moment. Ren’s cheeks warm again. His fingers brush over an aging pink scar across one shoulder, and a geometric design, tattooed in black, over his left bicep. The defined muscle of his chest, shoulders and abdomen.

‘You’re…’ Hux can’t seem to find a good word, just squeezes his arm instead.

‘Uh, yeah. Kickboxing, mostly. Parole officer seemed to think it would help with my anger issues and it does. Yoga, too, it gets me to sleep sometimes. The scars are just..’

‘I like it’ Hux murmurs against his shoulder, before pushing him back onto the couch. Ren scoops him into his lap shortly afterwards so that Hux is straddling him. Hux kisses him a little more frantically as his big hands settle on his hips, rocking his hips against Ren’s with his palms on his chest. He can feel how hard Hux is against him, the brush against his own thick and leaking cock through the fabric has him gasping into Hux’s mouth. The tip of his tongue ghosts over Ren’s, just dipping into his mouth, and is gone, returning when he bucks impatiently against him.

Ren tugs off his shirt in response, pulling him close to kiss him deeply, the brush of warm skin and chests and bellies pressed together, the pads of Hux’s fingers pressing into his back and how small he feels in Ren’s arms is enough for him to moan Hux’s name against his ear. His hand is between them, roughly palming Hux’s cock through his loose trousers. A fevered ‘Please..’ and his hand slips under the elastic of the waistband and underwear, his fingers wrapped around his erection, stroking slow. Hux’s forehead rests against Ren’s. Watching his eyes slip closed, his kiss-swollen mouth slightly open, rocking his hips against Ren’s hand, he’s gorgeous. Paper pale and bird-boned, a delicate arch to his collar bones and shoulders, blanketed with a whole galaxy of golden freckles. They trail down his chest, sparser over his stomach and slim waist. A scatter of red hair trailing from below his navel to his cock, flushed and hard in Ren’s hand, the head slick with precome.

He tightens his grip, moves a little faster. Hux’s soft gasps become wanton moans, his arms looped around Ren’s neck and his forehead in the crook of his shoulder. Ren presses messy kisses and licks across Hux’s shoulder and neck until he’s whimpering against his skin, shivering and moaning as he climaxes, spilling himself over Ren’s belly. He falls against him, pliant again. Ren wraps his arms around his heaving shoulders and gathers him close. Lets him catch his breath against his chest, brushing his thumb lazily over the back of his neck.

A few minutes pass, though Ren could stay here all night. Hux moves just enough to kiss him sleepily. A few lazy kisses on his mouth lead down his neck, and over his chest. Hux swipes his tongue over a nipple, the tip of his nose and hot breath ghosting over Ren’s navel.

Ren opens his mouth to tell him that he doesn’t have to. But his actions are as careful and precise as anything he does in the kitchen. Thinking through each action, what will have the most effect. Ren never thought it would be as appealing, as deeply fucking attractive as it is. He nearly knees him in the chin in surprise when Hux grasps his thick cock through his trousers, his mouth teasing at the waistband of his trousers.

‘You’re too good at that..’ His head falls back as he lifts his hips, letting Hux take off his trousers But he’s determined to make him wait, fingers delicate unlacing his shoes, removing his socks, trousers and underwear one item at a time. The odd teasing touch, a brush of cool fingers on the inside of his thigh, the back of his knees, a warm palm over his calf muscles and brushing over his instep as he takes his socks off, until Ren is nearly begging.

Ren is tall and broad, so it follows that his cock is bigger. Not comically huge, but bigger than average. Enough for Hux’s mind to drift to sinking down on it, how full and stretched he’d feel, Ren’s long fingers pulling his hips down as he sinks into his lap with his back to him. Riding out what would surely be the orgasm of his life with Ren curled around his back, hot mouth on his shoulder. He’s half-hard again at the thought.

He licks over his balls, swiping the broad flat of his tongue over the shaft. Ren is gasping, head back, his hair has long since escaped it’s bun and curls around his chin, chest glistening with sweat, and Hux’s come still sticky on his stomach. He moans Hux’s name, that sonorous voice filling the tiny room, as he takes the head into his mouth, sucking gently. Ren’s hand tangling in his hair has him taking more. Small licks working into Hux’s tongue curled around the underside of his cock. Maybe he’s too loud, he bites his lip but God that mouth, those full pink lips circling him. He looks prim and perfect even when doing this. He’s worked out how Ren responds to the filthy, wet sounds he can make with his mouth: bucking his hips, telling him how fucking good that feels, tugging his hair. Hux’s fingers caressing slowly up over his balls, trailing back down, barely brushing over his perineum undoes him completely. He comes hard, groaning deep in his chest as his nails dig into Hux’s shoulder.

Hux ends up curled back in Ren’s lap, cheek against his shoulder, both naked and sleepy. Ren reaches over the back of the couch, dragging a blanket from the mismatched pile folded there over their cooling bodies, tucking it around Hux’s shoulder. He hates fuss but mumbles his gratitude. ‘We could sleep at mine, if you’re cold’ Ren murmurs into his hair.

‘We need to be here in a few hours anyway. I honestly cannot be bothered to move.’ He curls closer in.

‘Fine. Let me get comfortable though.’

After a little rearranging, with all the feet and elbows and knees that entails, Ren is on his back, propped on a pillow, Hux lying on his chest, his slim frame wedged between Ren’s side and the back of the sofa. It’s surprisingly comfortable. Ren pulls another blanket over them because he says Hux ‘looks cold’. Hux rolls his eyes. He swears he hears something very like ‘You’re amazing’ spoken against his hair as he’s on the edge of sleep


	3. Chapter 3

Hux awakes slowly. Like he’s floating to the surface of a vat of some warm and viscous liquid, his torso bobbing up before his limbs, dragging his head into a cosy, vague consciousness. Ren has moved onto his side in the night and is curled around Hux, an arm draped around his waist, their legs tangled together. He feels hazily for his glasses out of habit, but he is wedged between Ren and the back of the sofa.

The fact that Ren is there, and that they are both naked beneath the blankets, takes a moment to process in his brain. But he’s not entirely opposed to it. He’s warm, Hux could grow very used to being held like this. He’s wrapped himself around Hux protectively, his long legs and broad back a barricade against the outside world. And even half-asleep, he’s beautiful, in his own way. Heavy black brows, which knit together for a moment as he stirs, and then relax again. A fan of long, dark lashes rimming each eye, he’s pale like Hux which lends contrast to his dark hair, eyes and the moles which dot his skin every few inches. His nose is too big and a little crooked at the bridge but it fits his face, it shouldn’t but it looks right with his full, rosy lips, parted slightly in sleep. His mother used to say that ‘The mistake makes the masterpiece’. He isn’t sure he’d call Ren a masterpiece. But the sum of his mis-matched parts creates a very pleasing whole.

He grumbles, attempting to roll onto his back, finding Hux in the way, and pulling Hux on top of him instead. ‘W’Time is it?’ He mumbles, shifting his hips, his very hard cock rubbing against Hux’s stomach. Everything Hux imagined about riding him last night flashes across his mind. He’s not usually the type for ‘...and once again in the morning’, preferring a hot shower and clean clothes. But then he’s not the type to get tipsy on very rare scotch and sleep with his staff either.

‘It’s a little after six’

‘Go back to sleep.’

‘I need to find my glasses before Mitaka gets here’

He eventually clambers over Ren, pulling on his underwear and t-shirt before creeping through to the dining room, finding his glasses abandoned on one of the tables. Returning to the office, considering going home to shower and change before getting the day underway, he’s met by Mitaka coming in the door.

He looks him up and down, taking in his attire (or lack of), crease-marked face and the interesting new angles his hair must be attempting. Hux sleeping at the restaurant was nothing new. Ren standing behind him, hair mussed and wearing only his loose work trousers, was.

Mitaka’s mouth opens and closes a few times, eyes flicking between him and Ren, eyes lingering just a little too long on a very shirtless Ren before Hux saves him the trouble of speaking by speaking himself

‘Good morning. We are only opening for dinner today, we have no lunch bookings and need to prepare for our first breakfast opening on Saturday.’ He’s almost too formal, trying to distract from the entire situation.

‘I had to work late last night.’ He’ll give Mitaka his due, his poker face at that one is impeccable ‘But I’ll be back this afternoon around two, I need to take care of some things at home. Hernandez, Mason and Watts will be in to assist you in a couple of hours. Call me if you need me.’

He vanishes back into the office a little too quickly, roughly straightens his hair and gathers his things. Ren smiles at him, looking vaguely amused at him rushing ‘So I’ll see you this afternoon?’

 

Hux is clearly back in command mode, rushing around and shoving everything into a black leather satchel he usually carries with him. ‘Yes, we have a few bookings tonight. I can come in earlier if needs be to prepare breakfast for tomorrow but a lot of it is cook-to-order and I-’’

 

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘What?’ Hux looks over at him in annoyed confusion, flustered by Mitaka’s presence (although Ren guesses that nobody is quite as embarrassed as Mitaka).

‘I’m looking forward to seeing you again.’

Hux pauses before rebuking him or pointing out the obvious, he’s only away for a few hours, they work together for God’s sake.

‘Me too, Ren.’ And with a peck on Ren’s lips that leaves him with a beatific smile for the rest of the morning, he leaves.

***

Hux hates going back to his father’s house. It’s too big, what did any family with three members want with a sixteen bedroom house? It’s too grand, marble columns around the front door, intricate tilework on the hall floor, fine rugs and trinkets (his mother’s) everywhere. He’s never bothered to move them, he just pays for them to be cleaned every so often. He’s quite attached to his room, the same that was his nursery, now simply furnished with a big double bed and wardrobe. A few books stacked by the bed. Wide, wood-framed windows that look out onto the garden, allowing the watery April sunshine to settle across his bed.

Time not spent at work always seems a little pointless anyway. But he had a few hours before he was due back. Perhaps he’d go back early. Perhaps he’d go and see Ren. He was not sure what last night made them. He found himself hoping that it might happen again. Thinking that he had definitely gotten attached far too quickly. The strong possibility that Ren would leave the restaurant, leaving Hux in way over his head and looking foolish, twisted unpleasantly in his stomach.

He pushes these thoughts away for now. Maybe he can have just one morning enjoying this newfound feeling. Or at least an unhurried shave and a shower with lavish amounts of foaming soap and hot water. He strips himself, stretching out his stiff shoulders and back, the beams of sunlight warming his bare skin. Takes his time removing a couple of days of scruffy red beard, towels himself down. Maybe a cup of coffee bfore he showers. He quite enjoys being naked in his own home, dusty sunlight and cool air brushing his bare skin, warm wood and the slap of cool marble under bare feet. He idly waits for coffee to brew, and jumps when the doorbell rings.

He scrambles for a towel, but relaxes a little at a familiar tall figure with dark hair behind the blurred glass. He opens the door to Ren in a rumpled flannel shirt and jeans. ‘I’ve barely been away two hours, Ren.’

‘You left your cellphone. Also, we need to talk.’ A little short and to the point for Ren. His face his pinched and serious, and he barely seems to notice Hux or his state of undress. But he moves aside and lets him into the kitchen. Ben eyes the elegant room. His mother may have taken over the rest of the house but the kitchen is his father’s. Wide marble worktops, a deep double sink, handsome oak cupboards and a rack of beautiful knives.

‘You’ll have to excuse me.’

‘I don’t mind at all. But I thought you might wanna know.’

‘About what exactly?’

‘About Poe Dameron.’

‘What about him?’ Hux can feel his heart sinking into his kneecaps before Ben responds.

‘Well, that guy I told you about years ago. That was him, we grew up together, and it just sort of happened. It didn’t end well. But we talked while I was filming Everyday Eats. He said I could still be good like I was when we were kids. Wanted to give me a chance. He came by my place this morning, saying he’d got me a regular spot on his TV show. The network would throw in a book deal just to sweeten it if I’d sign a contract.’

Hux doesn’t need to hear any more ‘I’d like to say I’m surprised at you.’ he says, drawing himself up to his full height and trying to look as dignified as he can in a towel. All the old anger flaring up inside him, boiling over. ‘And now I’m supposed to beg you to stay at L’Etoile, because we desperately need your insight and menu planning skills? Someone to tell us that we can, in fact, make breakfast? All on our own, a brigade of experienced chefs, imagine that!’

‘Hux, listen I-’

‘No, Ren! If you’d just stopped turning up, I could understand that. Yes, I’d be disappointed, both for losing your skill, and losing you. I don’t know what last night was, but I hoped it would be more than just last night. But to come to my house to rub it in my face? You can show yourself out, I’m sure you and Poe have a lot to discuss. Best of luck.’

Almost spitting the last sentence, he attempts to turn on his heel but Ren catches his by the wrist.

‘Just listen! I came here to tell you I said no. To the contract, to Poe, to everything. I want to stay with you.’ He smiles, and it’s so damn hopeful.

‘At L’Etoile?’

‘I want to stay with you, period. If you’ll have me.’

‘You’re fucking mad.’

‘Maybe. But even if you think last night was a mistake, I want to stay at the restaurant.’

‘I never said that.’

‘You don’t think it was a mistake?’

‘No. I don’t make mistakes. Stay with me.’ He can feel the same hopeful smile creeping onto his face that makes Hux want to slap himself.

Ren grins, that big dopey smile that makes Hux’s heart swell, pulling him into a deep kiss.

***

It’s something of a surprise when two weeks later Ren comes into work to find Hux sat on the sidewalk with what appears to be his worldly possessions. They’d had a few nights together in the meantime. Hux has started sleeping at Ren’s apartment rather than in his office.

It’s far too small for both of them. But there’s waking curled around Hux with the fat drops of a rainy city morning pattering on the glass. Tucking the sheets around his milky pale shoulder and talking him into five more minutes in bed. Which will easily turn into a very pleasurable half an hour, Hux underneath him, red hair fanned over grey sheets, pink mouth parted for gasping breaths.

So when Ren rounds the corner to see Hux surrounded by books, a lamp, his knives, a couple of bags of clothes, he immediately assumes the worst. That Hux would leave like this, just move away suddenly. It doesn’t make any sense for a man dedicated and thorough in every area of his life. But Ren’s mind makes it true and hot panic chased with cold disappointment sink into his stomach.

For some reason Hux is smiling, taking the morning chill from his hands by wrapping them around his coffee cup.

‘So this is it?’ Ren tries, and fails to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

‘I suppose so. Snoke fired me. Said if I was going to directly disobey him he had no choice. I think he wanted to sell up.’

‘What? So you’re just going to take it? You’re gonna leave? Why didn’t you say something?’

‘Wanted to surprise you.’ He’s still grinning like he’s holding some delicious secret, it’s starting to make Ren angry.

‘Some fucking surprise!’

‘You havn’t heard the best part. Snoke has wanted my father’s house for as long as he’s known my family. I offered him it, complete, in exchange for full ownership of the restaurant and the apartment above it. L’Etoille is ours.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘Maybe. Move in with me?’

***

Now run by the new power couple on the restuarant circuit, L’Etoile seems to have it’s sparkle back after some dark times. I visited for breakfast, and the simple but sparking combination of fresh pain perdu with homemade clotted-cream ice cream and berry compote ensured nothing could spoil the rest of my day. Fresh coffee and juice, together with D. Mitaka’s (of Instagram fame) truly outstanding patisserie, and K. Hux’s (formerly Ren) inspired twists on French and American classics have made L’Etoille the place to see and be seen on Theroux Avenue. A. Hux remaining at the helm has kept one foot very firmly in tradition, with the french classics regulars have come to love served daily. I hope to see this star continue to rise. ⅘


End file.
